


Red the Colour of Love (and Blood)

by EmeraldWaters



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Awkwardness, Blood and Injury, Concerts, Concussions, Cute, Doctor Kim Minseok | Xiumin, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Ugly, Minor Kim Jongdae | Chen/Kim Minseok | Xiumin, This is not nearly as serious as it sounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-31 01:43:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13964658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldWaters/pseuds/EmeraldWaters
Summary: Kyungsoo spends his Saturday night at the after-hours.(At least the guy that hit him is cute).





	Red the Colour of Love (and Blood)

**Author's Note:**

> well hiya! 
> 
> I read this as a prompt somewhere ages ago and was inspired by it (and Chanyeol's somewhat erratic control of his limbs). Most of this is from my own personal experience with concussion and research, but let me know if there is anything I've gotten wrong!
> 
> Also, I don't know if anybody here follows me but I usually post every Monday, or try to, but this is late because ao3 isn't working on my wifi at home. Hence, me being at a friend's house and trying to dodge her questions about what it is exactly that I'm doing.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

Kyungsoo grimaces as another splash of s _omething_ hits his ankles.

A Red Velvet concert isn’t the last place he’d want to be tonight, but it’s close. It’s loud, his feet are sore, and he has to press his hands to his temples when the crowd sways and several sweaty bodies press into him, their collective body odour wafting to his nose. _Whatever you do, don’t think about how much better that book at home would be._

 _At least Junmyeon is having a good time?_ Kyungsoo thinks in an attempt to cheer himself up, turning to see his friend decked out in merch, singing at the top of his lungs and mimicking the girl’s dance moves. (He can’t quite repress his cringe).

At least the music is half-decent.

(He doesn’t see the elbow until too late).

Kyungsoo’s world bursts into black stars, white-hot _pain_ branching across his face and across the back of his head a second later. Kyungsoo squeezes his eyes shut, clenching his fists as his world dissolves into _hurt._ Someone’s foot catches his side, digging painfully into his ribs. He curls into himself, trying to escape the pain.

Then hands are sliding under his arms and haul him to his feet. _(Since when was he on the ground?)_

Kyungsoo cups his face, the bolts of fire centred from his nose, and battles his eyes open. They’re teared up, and when he turns to ask _what the fucking hell,_ he runs straight into a chest.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry!” comes the panicked voice. By the pleasant timbre of it, it belongs to a man. Hands flutter wildly and uselessly along the breadth of Kyungsoo’s shoulders. “Are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay!”

Kyungsoo is overwhelmed. Pain is shooting up his forehead and the base of his skull, noise bursting in his eardrums. The stranger is still spouting apologies, crowding his space.

The anger dissipates. “Calm down, I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding!”

_What?_

_Ohhhh,_ Kyungsoo thinks belatedly as he looks at the hand he just pulled from his face, the fingers tinged a dark red. He wiggles them just to make they’re his. When he’s confirmed that yes, they are his fingers, he looks back up at the stranger, who is now lifting up the corner of his shirt to reveal very nice abs.

But, “ _what_ are you doing?”

The look the stranger gives him is somewhat hysterical, “Giving you something to stop the blood!”

“But then you won’t have one,” Kyungsoo points out, somewhat clearly, before a wave of nausea rushes over him so fast and oppressive he has to clap a hand over his mouth to stop himself from vomiting.

Someone knocks into him, and a large, painful squeal of feedback from a microphone reminds him just where he is.

“- didn’t even see you there!”

The world has gone blurry. “I need to get out of here.”

“What?” The guy says, cutting his freaked tirade off so fast it’s like whiplash, attention back on Kyungsoo. “Hey, are you alright?”

Kyungsoo shuts his eyes. “Please get me out of here. Now.”

He briefly feels pressure around his left hand.

But it’s becoming increasingly difficult to think through the pain. His nose is the epicentre, radiating into his cheeks and ears, connecting with the thump of the back of his head. Every slight movement is jarring.

He can’t even hear the music anymore. _Where is he? What time is it_?

“Hey. _Hey.”_

Kyungsoo zones back into a worried but unfamiliar voice. He’s leaning against a cool stone wall – a relief against the clamminess of his back. _When did they get outside?_

The stranger is in front of him, knees bent so he stands face-level to Kyungsoo. He is _very_ attractive. “Are you alright?”

“M’ fine,” Kyungsoo says, waving him off. Somehow that hurts his head too.

“You’re obviously not. _Shit,”_ the stranger says, distressed, running a hand through his hair. His hands are _huge._ “Your nose is bleeding, you’re slurring your words, you’re as pale as a sheet and _oh,”_ he tacks somewhat lamely on the end when Kyungsoo turns his head to vomit all over the ground.

Kyungsoo shudders and spits the last of it from his mouth.

“Look - ”

“Kyungsoo.”

“Kyungsoo, I really think you need to see a doctor.”

“I can’t – can’t go back in there,” Kyungsoo says, pointing in the direction of the stadium before his hands fall to rest on his knees. His head is swimming.

“I was going to offer to take you.”

Kyungsoo’s brain feels like it’s trekking through mud. “I don’t know you. Don’t want to get murdered.”

“How about I send a photo and my address to a friend – you didn’t come alone did you? Then if something happens they’ll know who to look for.”

Sadly, what it takes to convince Kyungsoo is the thought of pain medication. Clumsily, he fishes his phone from his pocket. “121212. Text Junmyeon.”

“Done,” the stranger says after an unidentifiable amount of time, gently pulling Kyungsoo’s hands from cradling his face to curl his fingers back around his phone. “Park Chanyeol at your service. My car is this way, it’s not far.”

Kyungsoo tenderly pinches the soft flesh of his nose again as they walk. Chanyeol is nearly a whole foot taller than him, easily shortening his strides with his hands in his pockets. He’s humming – a place-hold instead of talking Kyungsoo assumes – shooting Kyungsoo looks every so often and not shying away when their eyes catch.

It takes several attempts to lever himself into the Jeep.

Kyungsoo finally slides into the seat on the third try, grunting softly when his head hits the rest. A plushie hangs from the rear-view mirror and Kyungsoo watches it until it’s swinging starts to make him feel ill again.

“What’s the time?”

There’s a tearing noise. “10:20. Has your friend texted back?"

_Junmyeon | 10:10_

_Where’d you go? Are you okay?_

 

_Junmyeon | 10:21_

_Okay, thank you for letting me know. Keep me updated on how you feel._

 

_Kyungsoo | 10:21_

_Have fun : )_

 

_Kyungsoo | 10:23_

_I’ll text you in the morning._

 

He adds the second text because he knows Junmyeon will worry. Then he puts his phone down before he gets sick.

“Oh, and here,” Chanyeol says hastily, handing him a length of fabric – the origin of which becomes clear when Kyungsoo sees Chanyeol’s naked stomach bunch under his flannel. He’s looking at Kyungsoo with big, expectant eyes.

Kyungsoo takes it with a quiet “thank you.” Considering, they’ve just come from a concert, the proffered shirt – or what he’s got of it – should smell terrible. Even to his battered nose. It doesn’t, and Kyungsoo’s hidden lips quirk at the tinge of Chanyeol’s cologne. But the jolt of the car rattles his brain and nose and Kyungsoo’s smile turns into a grimace.

So busy _not thinking about the pain_  as he is, Kyungsoo doesn’t notice when the car stops.

A gentle hand on his shoulder brings Kyungsoo out of his thoughts. “Hey, we’re here.”

The pain has faded somewhat, but his head and nose thump in tandem as they walk into the after-hours, the automatic doors sliding closed behind them.

"For God's sakes Chanyeol what have you done now?" The receptionist says. There must be some sort of nonverbal communication. "Ahh so someone else took the fall this time then?"

Kyungsoo looks up. Nods dryly at the reception which makes his lips curl into a smile, before catching his reflection in the scanner above the desk. Kyungsoo winces, even in the distorted image, he can see that the skin under his eyes is black and blood has tracked its way down his face, staining his shirt and the fabric held to his nose.

"You look like a fright," the receptionist says almost too happily. He laughs, not unkindly. Slides a clipboard over the counter. "Please fill this out."

Chanyeol takes it and walks over to the seating that looks comfortable but never is. For a Saturday night, it's shockingly quiet in here.

"Are you all good to fill this out yourself?" Chanyeol asks him as Kyungsoo slowly sinks into the seat.

Kyungsoo nods, taking the pen and starting to write down all he can remember. He stumbles on the date and the time, but Chanyeol rushes to fill him in.

"Saturday, March the 31st. It was about 10:02 when I hit you."

They trudge back up to the desk.

For someone working the night shift, the receptionist is certainly happy to see them. "Ahh thank you," he says when Kyungsoo hands over the clipboard.

He asks a few questions that Kyungsoo doesn't remember later on.

Jongdae - as per his nametag - looks at him intently, searching, almost so Kyungsoo feels uncomfortable. But then he nods to himself, circles something on the sheet, and smiles at Kyungsoo before turning to his computer.

"How's Min?" Chanyeol asks the receptionist as he processes Kyungsoo's information.

"Good," Jongdae says. "But you can ask him yourself... now," Jongdae grins, looking at his watch then at the door.

As if summoned, a man appears in the doorframe.

"Minseok!" Chanyeol greets.

If Kyungsoo hadn't seen the white lab coat over the scrubs, he would've thought the man was a child; short with huge cat-like eyes and a gummy smile. There are huge bags under his eyes, sweat lining his hairline where his blond hair is pushed back, and some indiscernible substance staining the chest of his scrubs. Still, he's smiling.

Even with Kyungsoo's pounding head and vision that won't quite focus, he doesn't miss the fact that this is the most ethereal man he has ever seen like an angel. He gapes.

Minseok comes close and takes the clipboard with fingers that overlap with Jongdae's.

With a surreptitious look, Jongdae scans the room and as if accepting what he saw as satisfactory - a mother watching her child play with the toys in the corner and a man asleep on the bench - he nods his head and stands to kiss the man who must be Minseok. It's just a peck, but even the brief contact speaks volumes of familiarity.

Minseok swats at Jongdae, says "one of these days someone is going to have to instil the word professionalism in you," in a voice that isn't really mad. He consults a clipboard - one among many - and looks back up. "Kyungsoo?"

Kyungsoo nods, tenderly holding his nose.

"I have one more to see before you, but you'll be next," Minseok says briskly before going through the door that leads out into the waiting room and calling the mother and child with him.

Instead of staying to talk to Jongdae, who he's obviously acquainted with, Chanyeol follows Kyungsoo back to the seating.

"I'm guessing you're here a lot," Kyungsoo comments, pulling the ruined scrap of Chanyeol’s shirt away and back to his nose to make sure the blood has stopped. It has.

Chanyeol cards the hair at the back of his neck, looking very sheepish. "Yeah, eight visits this year I think?"

Kyungsoo stares. It’s _March._

"I'm an apprentice carpenter,” Chanyeol tells him. “I’m also super clumsy. Those two don't always mix."

Kyungsoo smiles, "no I suppose they don't." There's something very likeable about Chanyeol. Still, there’s something very intense about being the sole recipient of his gaze. “So, Minseok and Jongdae?"

Chanyeol eagerly turns his body towards Kyungsoo, looking fully ready to spill the gossip. "Not only are Minseok and Jongdae the cliché best friends story, but also the cliché receptionist and doctor love story. They're good friends of mine and keep their relationship to themselves, what you saw before was just Jongdae being cheeky. It took them years to get together, I thought I was going to go grey waiting for them to get together."

The last bit is said with a twist to his mouth as Kyungsoo's eyes flicker up to the gunmetal-grey of his hair.

Minseok appearing at the edge of the waiting area with a clipboard quietens any response he had. _“Do Kyungsoo.”_

The doctor inclines his head when Kyungsoo is in front of him. “Follow me.”

Without a word, Kyungsoo does, coming to a stop in one of many small alcove-like rooms that are separated by curtains. With a slight wrinkle of his nose – that he regrets instantly – Kyungsoo sits in the chair opposite Minseok, noting the strong smell of antiseptic. He can feel Chanyeol’s presence behind him.

“Nice to meet you Kyungsoo, I’m Kim Minseok. As for you Chanyeol,” Minseok says, cutting himself off with a shake of his head that came off as both disapproving and humouring. “As much as I do enjoy your visits, next time please refrain from dragging another person down with you.”

Kyungsoo can hear the apology in Chanyeol’s awkward chuckle.

“Now, Kyungsoo.” Minseok cuts off his smile and turns to him, serious. “Tell me what happened.”

Clearing his throat, Kyungsoo starts talking.

Minseok alternates between nodding and making quick notes on the clipboard in front of him. Every time Kyungsoo has to pause or go back and correct what he’s said, he looks up from his lap to find Minseok’s cat-like eyes scanning his face.

When he finishes, Minseok leans back in his chair. “What is the date?”

“Uhh, March the 31st,” Kyungsoo replies after a beat, trying not to phrase it as a question.

“Your birthdate?”

“12th January 1993.”

“Hah!” comes and exclamation and Kyungsoo almost startles, having forgotten Chanyeol was there. Minseok levels a glare at the interruption, a thick eyebrow arching up, unimpressed. “Sorry,” Chanyeol says rushed, “I’m older that’s all.”

Minseok’s eyes roll visibly, and with an ill-suffering sigh in Chanyeol’s direction, turns back to Kyungsoo. “Any nausea? Headache?”

“I vomited but am not nauseous now. I do have a headache but it was worse when I first hit my head.”

“Did you lose consciousness?”

“I think so.”

“Chanyeol?”

“For about five seconds,” the man says.

Minseok finishes the sentence he is writing and puts his clipboard on his desk. “Okay, let’s have a look at that nose.”

Despite himself, Kyungsoo hisses out between his teeth when the doctor’s fingers brush his face.

The doctor’s gentle hands still. “I apologize.”

“It’s all good.”

Minseok’s fingers probe the flesh around his nose. “Any difficulty breathing out of your nose?”

Kyungsoo tries. “I can, but it hurts.”

Minseok does a few more tests, shining a light in his eyes, getting Kyungsoo to answer a few more questions and running him through a few random exercises like puffing out his cheeks and moving his tongue side to side before sitting back in his chair, pulling the clipboard back to his lap.

“Okay, Kyungsoo. Your nose _is_ broken but it won’t need surgery as it is only a simple break. I will prescribe you some painkillers and nasal decongestants just in case you do experience some difficulty in breathing out of your nose. I recommend icing your nose 15-20 minutes multiple times a day to help the pain and swelling. If you wear glasses I recommend you don’t wear them until the swelling goes down. You have some bruising under your eyes, but they will fade with time.  Now, on top of your nose, I also believe you have a moderate concussion. Everything you described: nausea, blurry vision and a headache, they're all telling signs. The headache will most like persist for the next one to two weeks. No driving or alcohol for _at least_ 24 hours, I recommend taking off work as rest is important and make sure you stay off screens. If you have any concerns, or your symptoms get worse, I suggest you come back. Do you live alone?”. 

“No, I have a flatmate.”

“Are they home right now?”

“No, he’s working the night shift tonight.”

“Do you have anyone else that could stay with you for the next 24 hours?”

Kyungsoo frowns, trying to think. Junmyeon starts work early, Sehun is working now. Yifan is in China. Kyungsoo’s brain revolts at the thought of even considering his next-door neighbour.

Minseok smiles at him. “You’re always welcome to stay in the waiting room until someone is able to take you home or stay with you.”

“Thank you,” Kyungsoo says, relieved, bowing.

“I have some wipes here. Do you want me to clean up the blood for you, or do you want to do it?”

“I can.”

“All good,” The doctor says, standing and opening the curtain. “The mirror is behind you. Feel free to stay until you’ve cleaned up, but I will have another patient in the next five minutes.” Minseok adds, before disappearing in a whirlwind of blue scrubs and his lab-coat.

Kyungsoo winces when he finds his face in the mirror. Dark bruises already shadow under his eyes and he can tell that by tomorrow his nose will match in colouring. Dried blood coats his chin and lips and has spotted his shirt collar. His hair is messed and pupils small. He looks like a crime scene. He huffs and without fuss, starts cleaning himself up.

Chanyeol’s eyes meet his several times in the mirror. The taller man has Kyungsoo’s prescription in his hand.

Only when all the blood that he can physically remove now is gone, does Kyungsoo deem himself done. He puts the stained tissue in the bin and ducks under Chanyeol’s arm to wash his hands at the sink.

They make their way out silently back into the waiting room. In the five or ten minutes they’ve been gone, the after-hours has started to fill up. Kyungsoo takes a seat at the cracked bench in the corner, moving a stack of glossy magazines to the side. He closes his eyes.

“Here,” a voice says.

Kyungsoo opens his eyes to see Chanyeol in front of him, two pills and a paper cup of water in his hands. Kyungsoo’s prescription is tucked under his arm.

With a grateful incline of his head, Kyungsoo takes and swallows down the pills. “How did you get these?”

“Minseok talked to Yixing who is the pharmacist. He uh, well he knows me too. They pulled some strings.”

“Thank you Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol waves him off and takes the seat beside him. "Look Kyungsoo, Minseok said it's not safe for you to be by yourself at the moment. So, is it alright if I stay with you?"

His eyes are so imploring and tone so sincere that Kyungsoo simply nods.

They sit.

For how long, Kyungsoo doesn’t know. Time passes oddly, dripping slow like honey, flickering like the picture on the tv, intercut with static and low quality faded colours. The light in the room is somewhat dim and distorted, sitting under people’s chins with shadows pooling into the hollows underneath their eyes. People come and go. The longer time passes, the more the thumping in his head is harder to ignore.

A baby starts to cry and it pierces straight into Kyungsoo’s skull. Then there’s a soft warmth around his head and looks up to see Chanyeol’s large palms covering his ears.

It’s the strangest kind of intimate. Two strangers in a busy, crowded room curled around one another. Two boys, so different in appearance and personality that if not for this meeting might’ve passed each other on the street without a second thought. Chanyeol’s fingers are resting against the thin hair of his scalp. It feels nice. When the baby stops crying, Kyungsoo sits back up, and Chanyeol’s hands slide back into his lap.

There’s a clock opposite them on the far wall but Kyungsoo can’t read it. Too blurry. “Chanyeol, you don’t happen to know what happened to my glasses do you?”

“Oh!” Chanyeol says, hand sliding to pat the breast pocket of the flannel he’s now buttoned up. “They’re in here. I picked them up when you fell. They’re not broken.”

“Thank you. What is the time?”

“Two-twenty,” Chanyeol says, stretching his long legs out in front of him, pillowing his arm behind his fluffy head.

Kyungsoo clears his throat. He doesn’t know what he’s going to say.

Chanyeol fills in the gap. “Why were you at the concert in the first place? You didn’t seem like you were having much fun.”

“I went with Junmyeon,” Kyungsoo answers not-quite awkwardly but stunted, blunt in the way that he’s been told makes him seem uninterested.

Chanyeol nods, hand slipping into his pocket.

A casual movement, not one Kyungsoo would ordinarily care about. But for some reason, Kyungsoo doesn’t want Chanyeol to pull out his phone.

Kyungsoo looks at Chanyeol’s big frame, ripped skinny jeans and boots. Clears his throat. “Why were you there? You're not the type of person I'd expect at a Red Velvet concert.”

“I'm a big fan of music in general,” Chanyeol admits. “I’m not picky and try to make it to as many concerts as I can. The real reason I was at this one though is because my best friend is one of the backup dancers.”

“Is everyone you know hot?” Kyungsoo mutters when Chanyeol shows him his phone; a photo of him with his arm around another tall guy, with tan skin and a sharp jawline. (He’ll blame the concussion for loosening his tongue. But it’s not untrue: Jongdae, Minseok and now Jongin. Even Chanyeol himself is attractive, with large facial features, a wide smile and endearingly big ears that his hair doesn’t quite hide).

“Pretty much.” Chanyeol shrugs, looking down at him. “What do you do Kyungsoo?”

“I run a bookstore,” Kyungsoo says from behind the hand rubbing his forehead. The thumping is almost rhythmic now.

“Cute.”

Kyungsoo shrugs. It's a good job. “I enjoy books and organising things. Being independent from schooling means we only get customers who want to be there. People, I find, are very passionate about literature they like, and I enjoy helping provide that.”

“Cute,” Chanyeol repeats.

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, cutting off anything Chanyeol was going to add. “Why carpentry?”

“Because I'm good with my hands,” Chanyeol says, pausing like he's waiting for Kyungsoo to make a joke. When he doesn't, Chanyeol presses on, a hand ruffling at his hair. “Because I'm good at building things and I enjoy doing it. I like envisioning what an object has the potential to be and then building it. Uh, you see those blocks over there? They're mine.”

Kyungsoo looks to where the toys Chanyeol is describing are laid across the lap and disappeared between the chubby fists of a toddler. He can't see a great lot of detail without his glasses, but even from here he can see the care that went into the creation.

“My last boyfriend painted them.”

Kyungsoo doesn't visibly react to what Chanyeol just said. But there wasn't a real _need_ to specify that was there? _Unless_. Unless Chanyeol was trying to inquire Kyungsoo’s own sexuality?

“What happened?” Is what he settles for.

“He moved back to China,” Chanyeol shrugs.

Kyungsoo nods and closes his eyes again. He can practically feel Chanyeol’s pout at Kyungsoo’s lack of an answer.

Despite that though, Chanyeol keeps talking. It’s rather nice. The other man’s voice is soothing and he has the ability to talk about nothing yet something. Kyungsoo learns all about his family, his friends, his favourite colour.

And Kyungsoo, embarrassingly enough, is about to fall asleep when Chanyeol announces he is going to the bathroom.

Kyungsoo opens his eyes slowly, the space beside him on the seat now empty. Wincing at the crack of his elbow as he sits up, he wipes a hand across his mouth. _Where’d all your manners go,_ Kyungsoo scolds himself. _Slouching in public, probably with your mouth open no less._

Deciding that paying the bill now would be less embarrassing now than with Chanyeol present, Kyungsoo makes his way through the waiting room back to reception – it’s a lot more treacherous this time around, having to pick his way through spilt toys whilst simultaneously trying to bow politely at every ajumma he passes.

Jongdae spins in his chair when Kyungsoo makes it to the desk. A task not so meaningful ordinarily, but both impressive _and_ scary as Jongdae had been facing the other way.

His smile is wide, cat-like. Despite the lines of tiredness around his eyes. “Hello again Kyungsoo, what can I do you for?”

Kyungsoo would like to know if the man stopped smiling. Or looked as tired as he should, ever. “I’d like to pay the bill.”

(This, he says without a grimace, despite the likelihood of a high cost. To be fair this day hadn’t been expensive monetary wise – he’d gotten into the concert for free, unable to say no to the free ticket or Junmyeon’s pout he had told Kyungsoo his date had ditched).

One of Jongdae’s strands of hair is sticking up. A pen spins idly through his ringed fingers as he looks at the receipts in front of him. “Ahh Kyungsoo, Chanyeol already paid.”

 _What._ “When?”

“When you finished your appointment.”

“Oh,” Kyungsoo says blandly. Stop-starting. He goes to say something else; he doesn’t know what – getting words out of his mouth is like trying to push a ball through a square hole with the slowness of his brain – but gets cut off by the appearance of a guy holding nunchucks, with blood pouring steadily from a cut under his eye.

Jongdae flashes Kyungsoo a smile before turning to greet the newest patient in a serious tone, briskly pulling out a new clipboard and jotting down parts of whatever the guy is saying.

When Kyungsoo turns back to the waiting area, Chanyeol is standing by their previously-occupied seat, forehead wrinkled. As Kyungsoo watches, he does a slow searching circle, head swivelling as he turns. He almost looks lost.

“Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo calls softly.

 The other man’s head pops up. An audible _“oh,”_ escapes his mouth and his face smooths almost dramatically.                            

“What's the time?" Kyungsoo asks as he takes his seat again, squint-glaring at the blurred white blob that makes up the clock. He doesn't really care, he just doesn't want to deal with an awkward silence.  
  
"Seven minutes to three," Chanyeol answers, throwing himself down onto the seat next to Kyungsoo.  
  
"Mm." Is all the reply Kyungsoo can offer at that point in time. Like a bad smell, the headache is back, throbbing right at his forehead, blending into the pain in his nose.  
  
"I am really sorry."  
  
Kyungsoo rests his laced fingers on the softness of his belly. "What for?"  
  
"What for?" Chanyeol parrots, voice cracking with surprised exasperation. "I broke your face!"  
  
"You didn't mean to." Kyungsoo shrugs. He cracks an eye open when Chanyeol splutters, to level him with a look. "You paid for the bill so no big deal."  
  
"No big deal," Chanyeol mutters under his breath. "Concussion and a broken nose no big deal? What are you even on, the least I could do was pay the bill I ruined your face and your night..."  
  
Chanyeol's grumbling tapers off as Kyungsoo's eyes shut again. He doesn't know how, but the darkness helps. Soothes.  
  
There's a lull in business Chanyeol says, and Kyungsoo oddly can feel it. The distinct lack of chaos and the frantic buzz slowing down to a calm wash of noise. Chanyeol’s voice is very relaxing…

“Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo says cutting smoothly into a pause for breath. His eyes are still closed, not quite clenched from the pain but enough for the smooth curve of his eyelid to wrinkle. “What’s the time?”

“Three forty.”

“Already?”

“Yeah, I think you fell asleep for a while there.”

Kyungsoo’s eyes flutter open long enough to see Chanyeol’s body curved into the corner to accommodate his weight. They close again. “Sehun finishes in twenty minutes,” he says and although his words are slow and pause long, Chanyeol doesn’t interrupt. “You can take me home now if you would like. And uh, also, you’re welcome to stay for breakfast?”

“Okay,” Chanyeol replies in practically a whisper.

“Okay?”

“Okay!” Chanyeol says again, jumping to his feet, the biggest smile stretching across his face.

“Calm down,” Kyungsoo says, pulling his phone from his pocket. He winces when he sees there are 11 unread messages.

“What?”

“Sehun told Junmyeon,” Kyungsoo says despite him not knowing who they are, tilting his phone so Chanyeol can see all the notifications. “Junmyeon is a perpetual worrier.”

 

_Junmyeon | 02:00_

_Why did Sehun just tell me you were at after-hours_

 

_Junmyeon | 02:30_

_Do Kyungsoo answer me right now_

_Junmyeon | 02:45_

_Sehun told me you still were with this Chanyeol guy. HOW DID YOU FORGET TO MENTION HE WAS A STRANGER WHEN YOU TEXT ME EARLIER!_

_Sehun | 02:47_

_sorry hyung Joonmyunnie was rlly worried so I had to tell him_

_Junmyeon | 02:55_

_Do Kyungsoo you are so lucky that Yixing just text that you were okay, and that he knows Chanyeol._

Ah Kyungsoo had forgotten that Junmyeon knew a Yixing. They’d yet to meet because of conflicting schedules.

“Weird,” is all Chanyeol says.

 

_Junmyeon | 02:59_

_I’m still worried. Text me back when you can._

_Junmyeon | 03:10_

_Kyungsoo_

_Junmyeon | 03:15_

_Kyungsoo._

_Junmyeon | 03:20_

_Kyungsoo!_

 

_Sehun | 03:22_

_pls reply hyung, you’re gonna make him cry_

_Junmyeon | 03:30_

_Do Kyungsoo if you don’t reply in ten minutes I’m coming to find you._

It’s 3:41.

Shit.

Junmyeon is _always_ punctual.

 

_Kyungsoo | 03:42_

_I’m sorry hyung for stressing you out. I’m okay and Chanyeol is about to drive me home. Sehun will be there as well._

_Junmyeon | 03:43_

_Kyungsoo thank god_

_Kyungsoo | 03:44_

_Sorry for scaring you hyung_

 

_Junmyeon | 03:45_

_Considering you’ve never put me through half the shit that Sehun has, you’re forgiven. No need to apologize for keeping me awake either, the boss has given me the day off_

_Kyungsoo | 03:46_

_Nice try hyung, you’re your own boss and you work from home anyway._

_Junmyeon | 03:47_

_I know! Haha_

“He’s all good now,” Kyungsoo says to Chanyeol, who had awkwardly lowered himself back into his seat four minutes ago. “I’ll just text Sehun first and then we can go.”

 

_Kyungsoo | 03:48_

_You’re a pain._

 

_Sehun | 3:51_

_hyung I’m srry_

Kyungsoo sighs. He can’t really stay mad at Sehun. No one can. It’s probably because that, despite being a giant brat, he really is quite sweet.

 

_Kyungsoo | 03:52_

_You’re forgiven. Chanyeol is staying for breakfast._

_Sehun | 03:53_

_hyung! You dog!_

Kyungsoo sighs again, louder. Puts his phone away, rubbing his forehead when he notices the pain has increased _. No screens,_ Minseok had said.

On their way out, they stop to say goodbye to Jongdae.

“Just let me know if he gets too friendly Kyungsoo. I’ll sort him out.”

Kyungsoo laughs and nods, fingers gingerly holding the bridge of his nose. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Hey!” Chanyeol protests indignantly.

Jongdae ignores him. “Take care Kyungsoo.”

“You too.”

Chanyeol’s stomach growls as they get outside. Loudly. Kyungsoo almost mistakes it for a passing car until Chanyeol laughs embarrassedly, rubbing his belly. “Sorry, I haven’t eaten for a while.”

Kyungsoo stops, staring wide-eyed. “You haven’t eaten the whole time you were with me, have you?”

“Neither have you!” Chanyeol says defensively, pointing the hand that dangles his keys at Kyungsoo.

“You’re staying for breakfast,” Kyungsoo says, in a tone that brokers no arguments. (Ignoring the fact that he hasn’t been hungry for hours and that he doesn’t quite know how he feels about food at the moment).

Chanyeol grins at him, wide. “It’s the least I could do.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_Ari-YEOL | 04:30_

_jongdae help_

_he’s finally let me into his house and he’s making breakfast I can’t._

_he’s really cute_

_even with a busted face_

_Chenderella | 04:33_

_that was you, idiot_

_Ari-YEOL | 04:34_

_Thnks jongdae that was so helpful._

_said NO ONE ever._

_dont you think I know I busted his face!?!?_

_Ari-YEOL | 04:45_

_so we're eating toast and i said how are you sWHEATheart and like he didn't laugh?? maybe he didn't get it_

_okay i spoke too soon he just turned to me and said with a straight face 'rye are you the way you are' im screaming_

_oh it's on_

_Chenderella | 04:47_

_I fully appreciate and support this_

 

_Ari-YEOL | 04:49_

_update: im now losing_

_jongdae help he is really cute_

_Chenderella | 04:51_

_No need to get crusty about it  ;)_

 

_Ari-YEOL | 04:55_

_I just got stared out by Kyungsoo’s roommate when he left to use the bathroom and he was all like ‘I’m sehun. You must be the guy who punched Kyungsoo in the face. Id say id hurt you if you hurt him but he’s more than capable,’ smiled at me and then left._

_Chenderella | 04:56_

_hahahahahah_

_that was actual gold_

 

_Ari-YEOL | 04:57_

_you’re no help_

_I hate you_

_where’s Minseok when you need him_

_Chenderella | 04:59_

_next to me_

_he’s laughing at you too_

_Ari-YEOL | 05:01_

_I hate you both*_

Ari-YEOL _| 05:03_

_he’s back_

_I think im gonna ask him out_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_Ari-YEOL | 05:07_

_omg he said yes_

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I can’t believe it’s been two years.”

“I can’t believe you gave me a concussion _and_ broke my nose.”

Chanyeol cups the back of his neck guiltily. No matter how many times Soo said he was forgiven, Chanyeol still feels the need to apologize (he doesn’t actually say the words – if only because Soo threatened to hit him after the fifth time – but they’re still written in every movement).  “Ahh, at least it’ll be a good story to tell the kids?”

Kyungsoo stares at him because “kids?”

Chanyeol colours right to the tips of his dyed hair. “What – what I um. What I meant was-”

Kyungsoo cuts him off with a soft kiss, hiding his smile because his _boyfriend_ is ridiculously cute.

 

 

 


End file.
